Boredom
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: Amelie is bored. Set before the short story released on the 2nd May, 2012. /parody on previous characterisations but IC for the portrayal in that short story.


_Set just before the short story Rachel Caine released last night._

_It's in the same characterisations as that short story was, as it wasn't exactly…_**in**_ character for the vampires, was it?_

* * *

Boredom was in the air.

It was something that never used to bother Amelie; she used to be able to just sit there, drumming her nails, pretending that she had something to do with her life whilst it was actually falling apart, and it would never bother her. The emotion of "oh my _God_, I'm so bored" didn't seem to actually exist until after she had been a vampire for a good thousand years, so it didn't particularly bother her. Myrnin, on the other hand, had always been able to think about how bored he was…then again, he was Myrnin.

But since the Master Draug had bitten Amelie, and she'd been revived by some concoction of Myrnin's that she didn't really want to think about, boredom had been niggling the back of her mind.

So had the fact that she wanted to kiss Oliver and let him control her, but she usually kept that a little bit better controlled because it wasn't common knowledge, she didn't think.

(It was, after Myrnin had posted over every single public forum possible that Amelie and Oliver were in love and betraying Sam's memory.)

"Oliver, I'm _bored_," Amelie whined down the phone to her _paramour_, deciding that she may as well have a gathering of the Elders Council. It was that or painting her own nails, and she had never bothered to do that before – _hello_, servants! – so why would she start then?

"I'll fetch Myrnin and come straight over." Oliver sounded far too happy to be coming over to Amelie's house – maybe he thought he would have special time in Amelie's room, like all teenagers want – and it made Amelie think that this could be _fun_.

And then she wondered if the Draug had managed to turn her into this raving, crazy teenaged girl, because she wasn't acting anything like her usual self.

_~x~_

Within fifteen minutes, Myrnin and Oliver were in Amelie's house, the latter wondering if he could kiss her because she looked so beautiful: her hair was down, she was wearing normal clothes, and she looked happy.

Nothing that Myrnin had ever seen before – or, at least, not all of them in one go.

"You wanted us?" Oliver asked her, even though he had suggested bringing Myrnin, and Amelie beckoned him over with just one finger bending.

"Let's have a bet." Her suggestion was out of the blue for Myrnin, partially because she had never been one for betting; if she was about to suggest that they should watch the Grand National, he would kill her because she wasn't exactly acting like herself. "I think…I think that we should bet on whether or not Myrnin can keep his temper whilst Oliver riles him. Well, I'm betting on that."

It was that point that Myrnin knew Amelie had lost her mind, because at the same time, she was letting Oliver (paedophile, since he appeared 30 years older, OMG) hold her close, almost as if they were in a normal relationship.

"I disagree. I don't think we should do that." Myrnin tried to back away, but he knew that there was no chance of that; Amelie was Oliver's now, and if he wanted Myrnin to have nothing, Amelie would give him nothing.

"I think we should. If you win, Myrnin, I will allow Oliver to kill Shane, and you can dance a merry dance in the moonlight, or just go crazy, I don't really care. If I win, you have to sit down to dinner with Shane, on his birthday – which is today – and then sing happy birthday and give him a cake I made for him." the little giggle, as well as her sudden interest in baking, had Myrnin sure that Amelie had been possessed.

But there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He tried to persuade her, even as Oliver called him names, insulted his parents, insulted his feelings, insulted _everything_ that was related to him; he tried to tell Amelie that she was being daft – that just gave him the threat from Amelie that she would kill _him_ – and that she was acting like more of a child than the one they had found hiding in the Elder's Council Building last week.

That child was three years old and knew how to say she was bored, and nothing more.

Nothing worked.

_~x~_

Another three hours later, and Myrnin was beginning to feel irritated with Oliver. He'd managed to ignore the insults for this long, even with Amelie egging Oliver on by giving him little kisses and saying that he meant everything to her, and had managed this by singing random pop music songs over and over again. They included something called, "what makes you beautiful," and also "call my name" because he'd heard them on the radio and they were really catchy.

Hey, if Amelie was becoming modern, there was no reason why _Myrnin_ shouldn't either.

Sadly for Myrnin, Amelie had banned him from singing – he'd been singing aloud, and she knew she'd lose the bet if he carried on because nobody would be able to survive his singing.

So she cheated.

"Either shout at Oliver, or I'll remove all your things from your laboratory and make you share Shane's room."

Myrnin growled at her, glared more furiously than ever, and yelled, "SHUT UP, OLLYPOP, OR I'LL CASTRATE YOU. AS THAT'S WHAT YOU NEED BECAUSE YOU LOVE THE FOUNDER. SO SHUT UP AND GO AWAY, BECAUSE YOU SMELL."

And then he turned to look at Amelie.

"You smell worse and you're a cheater and that doesn't count as you made me, but you're just mean to me, Amelie, why are you doing this, I just don't understand, he's a paedophile, he doesn't make sense, he smells bad, he's ugly, _WHY DO YOU LOVE HIM?"_

Amelie just ignored his spiel.

"Hahahaha, you lose, I'm bored again," Amelie rolled her eyes and applied more make-up, making sure she looked pretty enough to be in Seventeen magazine. "Oh, and fetch Shane, Oliver. I want to get this on camera."

* * *

_So that is how Myrnin lost the bet and how everything fucked itself up._

_Please ignore the crappiness of this; I just wrote it in 3rd person past, which I can't do well, and in about 15 minutes._

_**Don't**__ favourite without reviewing, thanks._


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